Cold Ice
by july rain
Summary: Sometimes you can’t help but think she’s as cold as the ice around her left ankle. Seddie.


**So, after almost a year of hiatus, I came back! This is an idea I've had in my head for a while, and I finally decided to put it to words. Here it is!**** I guess the kids are around 16 or 17, by the way.**

**An****d Happy New Year to everybody! [:**

**Word count: 1,978**

**Cold Ice**

Sometimes you can't help but think she's as cold as the ice around her left ankle.

"Fredweenie, bring Mama some ham, now! My ankle is killing me and I need a good distraction!"

If she had just said 'please' you might have even done what she asked for gratefully. You still do it, of course, you've learnt over the years (the hard way) that it's better not to contradict Sam if you don't want to suffer the consequences. Bad consequences.

She sprained her ankle the night of your first date. _Your _first date as in you and Sam, together. It hadn't been something really planned or really romantic, it had just come up like that. You both were left together at the Groovy Smoothie because Spencer had frantically called Carly and she'd mumbled something about Spencer's room (yes, the one he didn't want her to come in) being partly on fire before running home.

So you waited, your elbows propped up on the table and hands cupping your head, while she finished (more like gulped down) the rest of her smoothies. She had ordered two.

After a while, she mumbled a "What do you want, dork?" which made you snap out of your trance. You'd been _staring_ at her, actually enjoying the way her blond hair cascaded down her shoulders.

"I, uh," you stutter. "I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk in the park with me."

You flinch backwards involuntarily, scared that she'll break your arm or your foot or any other limb of her liking. She's never broken any of your bones, but you can recall many occasions in which she has looked willing to.

Sam takes a while to process this though, which is a bit unusual for her. "Both of us? Me and you?"

"Yeah," you nod slightly, still tense in case she decides to give you a wedgie or abuse you in some other way to show her appreciation or dislike of the idea.

"Sure, Freddie, why not?" she shrugs nonchalantly. And you're shocked, but you can't tell if it's because she's accepted your half-hearted invitation or because she hasn't used a disrespectful derivative of your name or because of both at the same time.

You swallow, a bit confused. You had expected a violent outcome, or just a harsh 'Of course not!', so you weren't really sure of what you should do once she had accepted your invitation this… peacefully.

"So… should we get going?" you ask with a smirk. Sam hasn't paid her smoothies yet and you're almost positive she won't, so you grab a 5 dollar bill and hand it to T-Bo before he can offer you a pickle or a bagel or anything on a stick, gesturing towards the blond with a movement of your head. "Keep the change," you say, then you turn your head towards Sam, "Let's go."

The walk to the park is quite uneventful. It's 5 pm on a winter evening, so the darkness is slowly engulfing Seattle. You both don't say much, in fact you say nothing, you just walk with your hands in your pockets, glancing at Sam now and then. You feel your stomach clench (in a good way) when blue and coffee-colored eyes meet and you avert your eyes quickly.

Once in the park, you both sit in a bench overlooking a frozen pond. Sam puts her feet up on the bench and hugs her knees, trying to keep warm, and you try to squelch the overwhelming desire of putting an arm around her shoulders.

"It's a pretty sight," you find yourself saying, trying to ease the silence between you. "But the ice… looks cold," you say smiling. You turn so you're facing Sam and she's looking at you as well. You both stay quiet.

Sam lets her gaze and legs drop slowly from the bench and then she perks up and she's looking at you intently as if she were trying to tell (or deciding against telling) you a secret.

"Don't say anything," she whispers, and then her voice reaches the state of menacing growl. "To _any_body."

Before you can react her lips are on yours and you feel dizzy. She tastes sweet, you think as you start to move your lips against hers, absentmindedly raising one hand to her cheek. You tilt your head, trying to get as close as possible. It's only your third kiss ever but your tongue's already in her mouth and it feels, so, so good.

But it ends as abruptly as it started, and at the same time the streetlights in the park start to flicker lazily. Sam has a grin on her face has she pulls back and apparently you have one too; you can tell from your reflection in her eyes. She looks pretty in this light. She looks beautiful in this light.

"Let's go home?" you say, somewhat like twisting the sentence into a question.

Sam shrugs and holds out her right hand in front of her. It takes you mere seconds to realize what she wants, so you get up and offer her yours. "Come on, Fredweird, take Mama home," she says, smirking as she takes it.

You're holding hands on the way home and you don't know what to think about it. You're not really sure if this is just Sam messing with you or if she means it or if she just feels alone this evening; you just know you like it a lot. Maybe it's because you like the risk that being this close to Sam implies, or maybe it's because you like Sam. You don't really know.

Sam decides to jump a puddle on the concrete ground, still attached to you by the hand. The next thing you know, she's pulling you down to the ground with her so you pull back to try to steady her, but it's too late and you both end up on the floor.

Being Sam, you'd expect her to be laughing her socks off by now, at her and your "dork ways", but right now she's strangely quiet, clutching her ankle.

"This is all your fault, Freddifer," she says quietly.

"Uh, Sam," you brush her hair out of the way so you can see her face, which is pained. "You were the one who jumped."

"And? You were the one who fell on top of me!"

You sigh. "Alright, let's get you home fast, Sam."

You're not that far from your house, so you scoop her up in your arms despite her resistance. After a while she stops squirming and lets you carry her.

None of you say anything about the kiss in the park on the way back, and you sort of prefer it that way, it's already awkward enough carrying Sam like this, with such access to kick places that should seriously never be kicked; but she doesn't look that good so you hurry and try not to think of her breath being dangerously close to your face again.

You open the door to Bushwell with a kick of your foot. Thankfully Lewbert is not there, so you hurry and take the elevator before he comes out of the same room where Carly found his Deeply Personal Items.

You enter into your apartment and place Sam gently on the living room couch. Your mother isn't home, and you assume she's probably fat-free grocery shopping. You don't really want to go into Carly's house, because it might still be on fire and Spencer's room is not something you really want to see.

"Hold on, Sam, I'm going to put some ice on your ankle," you say to her softly.

But when she mumbles, "Hurry, dork," you know she isn't hurt that bad.

You go over to the fridge and put some ice in a cloth, then hurry back to the couch. You sit in the end where Sam's feet are and you put her left foot on your lap, wrapping the ice carefully around it.

And just when Sam looks like she's about to thank you, she yells, "Fredweenie, bring Mama some ham, now! My ankle is killing me and I need a good distraction!"

She really_ is_ cold sometimes. You get up, go back to the fridge and bring her some ham. "Here, Princess Puckett, for your enjoyment," you say wryly, handing it to her and sitting back down, putting her foot back on your lap and lazily running your thumb across her foot.

Sam eats it faster than the time it takes you to say 'In 5… 4… 3… 2…' before every iCarly, and then she's looking back up at you with puppy eyes.

"Sam…" you groan, as she starts poking you with her right foot.

"Come on, Benson. I sprained my ankle! That's almost as bad as being pregnant. In fact, it's much worse. And you know you shouldn't get in the way of pregnant women…"

You laugh, amused. "Sam! How did this go from spraining ankles to being pregnant? I already gave you some ham and I'm taking care of you, _good _care of you. Isn't that enough?"

She crosses her arms and sinks even more in the immaculate sofa. "Hmph. But it still hurts and I need to be distracted."

You smirk at her as you gently place her foot back on the couch, and you make a beeline to the other end of the couch, next to her head. You're kneeling on the floor in front of the sofa and you put a hand on her chin and pull her closer and your mouths are touching and it's like a spark flew off because you both shiver at the same time. Sam rolls on the couch careful not to jostle her ankle but now she's facing you and her hands are on your collar. She pulls you towards him and you tilt your head; you're as close to her as it is humanly possible and you like it that way.

You sort of lose track of time from then on but land back on Earth with a thud when she starts nibbling on your lower lip. Your hand is tracing circles on the skin of her stomach and she's making a deep, guttural sound which you just realized might be a moan. And you don't know for how long you've been kissing but it's been quite a while, you're sure of that.

"Distracted enough, Sam?" you ask, trying to catch your breath.

She can only nod before bringing your mouth down on hers again.

x

She stays at your house that night, after spending a while at Carly's (now thankfully fire-free), as your mother clearly stated that she "didn't think Mrs. Puckett was qualified enough to take care of her hurt child". Your mother lets Sam use the emergency crutches you have in your house, and she even bandages her ankle. She also sets up a bed next to yours and puts several cushions so Sam's leg is propped up during the night.

But when you come back from brushing your teeth the cushions are on your bed and Sam's lying on it.

"Okay, okay, I'll sleep in the small bed," you say. "Gee, Sam, you could have just asked."

"Nah. Come here, Benson," she says.

"Alright."

You smile as you slide in your bed next to her. You turn off the light and pull her close to you.

"Good night, Sam."

"Night, Freddork."

x

The following days at Ridgeway High School are quite funny, as Sam uses her crutches to (violently) attack anyone who dares make fun of her.

Both of you haven't really had a proper talk about it but lately you've been spending more time together, both for making out and for Sam to abuse or make fun of you, because you really wouldn't have it any other way.

_the end_

**For the record, ****I tried to make the change of tenses from past to present swiftly (from what Freddie is remembering to when they are speaking at the Groovy Smoothie), but I'm not sure if I managed to do it right. As always, if there is any mistake please tell me. Don't forget to review! They're muchly appreciated [:**


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